I woke up this morning and headed straight for a Starbucks. I was on my way to the giant church on top of the hill. I thought I would rent a bike since it looked like a decent walk and I didn’t have much time. My train left at 12:15 for Paris and it was already 9. I couldn’t rent a bike because my credit card doesn’t have a smart chip (the majority of the US cards don’t; all of the Europe cards do). This was a minor TP, but easily fixed by power walking and sometimes running so as not to miss my train. So this one doesn’t get a number. Along the way I decided to walk through the local street market. These markets are fabulous and America misses out by not having these in every town.
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| Beaujolais Controlee |
This brings me to my only wine tasting of my trip. I was walking along and this old man spoke to me. I said “Sorry, I only speak English.” He said “That’s ok, I speak English.” The man was in his 60’s or higher I would guess and he owns a vineyard that produces 15,000 bottles a year. Not much by wine standards. I chatted with the man and tasted his wine for about 20 minutes. I learned about his winery and how he learned English (by getting himself an American girlfriend…hahaha!). He suggested that I get a French boyfriend. Haha! Now that’s darn funny. No thanks, I’ll pass. I bought 2 bottles of the Beaujolais Blanc from the guy and was on my merry way.
Up the hill I went and up and up. I got to the church with roughly 30 minutes to look around before my descent. The church was beautiful as all of these churches are. Painted ceilings, stained glass windows, marble statues, but not a place that I could find God. There was also a church under the church. More low key, not crowded with people, but I was out of time and couldn’t sit. I started down the hill. I ran into a group of children making the Good Friday march up to the church. One little boy was Jesus carrying the cross. What a beautiful scene. As I continued down the hill, I ran into more and more groups of children. I was in a hurry. I was dodging kids and squeezing past in the shrubs on the way down. Once down, I jetted to my hotel and onto the train station. 
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| See that tall building back there? The train station was on the other side |
It was 11:45. I was on schedule. I printed my ticket and realized my train left at 12:41, 30 minutes later than I thought. Now I had an hour to kill. I ate lunch, bought some ridiculously funny sunny glasses, and watched the board for my train to appear. Lunch: A baguette with lettuce and brie. These French baguettes are good! The first 12:41 train appeared on the board at 12:15; it was not mine. Then a 12:42 train appeared. Where was my train? TP#3!!!!! I look at my ticket and realize that I am at the wrong train station. A curse word slipped out! I grab my suit case and run outside, look at the map, and realize the other train station is not within walking distance in the next 30 minutes. I try to find a cab. I find one that, of course, speaks no English. I show him my ticket to say where I want to go. He saying ‘no’ and motioning for me to go back to the station. What I take from him is the following: The train leaves from the station I’m supposed to be at and stops at this station before going to Paris. Really? That would be awesome. I fly back inside and find information. What I inferred from the cabi was correct. There train will arrive here at 1:00. Thank ya Jesus! That was a close call.
I arrive in Paris to a massive train station. I find information and figure out how to get a metro pass. I interpret the map and I’m on the metro going to my hotel. But wait! TP#4 has reared its ugly head. The metro suddenly stops and everyone must get off. The tunnel is under construction. I’m 4 or 5 stops from where I want to be which equates to an hour walk according to my Crackberry (ma and pa, that is what my phone is nicknamed by the general public). I try to ask a metro guy, but the English is so rough I can’t understand. Next I look for a bus station. I go to look at the map and can’t figure out crap. The line I need is not at this station and I’d probably be better off walking than trying to change buses. I see another bus stop across the street. This one has a bus man at it. I show him where I need to go and he puts me a bus marked “special”. Yes, I suppose after this trip I should be on the special bus. I do make it to that bus stop I need and after only a 15 minute walk arrive at my hotel. From the train station to my hotel only took me close to 2 hours. Yikes. I wash my face and head to the Eiffel Tower. The line to go up is monstrous. I ate some ice cream. I decide to wait until night. I walk around the tower, down the lawn, around some buildings, all around the area until I settle on a café to eat at. 
It was a lovely café, with a view of the Eiffel Tower. I had a Carpaccio salad, French fries, and a Cotes du Rhone wine. It was nice sitting outside and watching as the tower sparkled. Seriously, they light it up to make it look like it sparkles. It was very nice. After dinner I went back to the Eiffel Tower, waited in line for 45 minutes to take the roughly 700 stairs to the second stage of the tower. The line for the elevator was too long, but who wants to use that when you walk. The view is much better. You can’t walk all the way to the top, but I am ok with not going to the top. You can see everything from the second stage.
Time for bed. More of Paris to come.
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